


A Different Curse

by deeblink



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Gen, Very AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deeblink/pseuds/deeblink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my third Halloween fic from 2011. It is the saddest story I've ever written...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Curse

A Different Curse  
Prologue  
It fell to the shift supervisor, Greg Sanders, to go through all his papers but when he found the notebook, in a locked drawer, his heart sank and he remembered, with great sadness, the tragedy that had befallen them all those years ago.   
The notebook had a title printed in capital letters and underlined, ‘NICK STOKES’. In the drawer beneath the notebook was an old service gun, wrapped in an old ripped tee shirt.  
He sat back in his chair and opened the book to start reading…it was written in Gil Grissom’s neat longhand…  
The Story  
It was just a hunch. A vague idea…   
He was almost embarrassed that he had no solid evidence…in fact he had no evidence whatsoever and yet here he was driving way over the speed limit trying to keep up…  
For a couple, or three years, maybe, he noticed these changes in Nick. They were subtle, certainly nothing overt but he would become slightly agitated and irritable. But even slightly agitated and irritable were not adjectives he would ever use to describe the man. Normally.  
It must have taken him a couple of years to realise that these little anomalies were cyclical. And he remembered, quite clearly, how he discovered it and why it bothered him. They were at a crime scene in the desert and it was a full moon; it was so light they could almost see without their flashlights…and they could hear coyotes screeching in the distant hills and forests.  
Nick was disturbed, if that was the right word, and Gil only noticed because he was aware of the previous slight agitation.  
When they got back to the lab, Nick had asked for time off…short notice, urgent family business. He took two days off that were owed and when he came back he was his very normal amiable self.  
That’s when Gil started really taking notice. It was a pattern. Not every month but it was a distinct pattern and it was puzzling and Gil was caught in the trap. He was a forensic scientist: he craved answers to puzzles.  
He kind of made plans and kind of got together some equipment and then waited for Nick to ask for his unexpected time off. He tried to be annoyed with Nick for asking for two days off at short notice again…but he was secretly very happy to let him take his leave because this time, Nick Stokes, he thought, I will be right behind you.  
And that’s where he was now tracking Nick’s truck with the portable tracking device purchased for the lab but not yet put into general use. They were heading towards the mountains and forest of the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest, north of Vegas. He thought he must have dropped back a couple of miles behind Nick since he’d been doing ninety to a hundred miles an hour on some of the straight roads and now as they started climbing into the mountains and forested area he was still doing fifty or sixty on the twisting roads. An indication to Gil, who was slower on the unfamiliar roads, that Nick was very familiar with the road lay out.  
He missed the turn. The tracker told him so; he had to find somewhere to stop and turn. It was gone nine o’clock at night and the track was just that: a track. It would be no problem for Gil's truck to negotiate but he would need to use his headlights and this was an area where the dark of the night would show the glow of the headlights for many miles, even in the forest.   
He turned onto the track and stopped and turned off his lights to consult the tracking device. It indicated that Nick was moving much slower now at eleven miles an hour. He was only point eight of a mile ahead of Gil. Gil looked out of the window and up at the sky. It was a great view without the lights of the city to mask the stars. But the moon was incredible; so big and bright you could make out its mountains and valleys. Gil looked ahead at the track and reckoned with the moon’s light as it was at the moment he could negotiate the track without lights for a short time but as the forest became denser he would have to use them.  
He looked at the tracker again. Nick was still moving but now it was much slower, at four miles an hour. Walking pace.  
Suddenly, and it made Gil jump, the tracker started beeping loudly and regularly. It was an indication that the tracked vehicle had been stationary for three minutes. Longer than it would be in normal traffic conditions. Gil stopped his truck and consulted the device. Nick’s truck was point nine of a mile away from Gil. Gil stayed put for a little while to check to see if Nick started moving again. He had a thermos of coffee and took a welcome drink from it; he’d been tracking Nick for nearly two hours.  
Twenty-five minutes later Gil was convinced that Nick had reached his destination since there had been no further movement. He decided to try and get nearer in his truck without using his lights and he made very slow progress. When he was two hundred yards away he came to a place on the track which was wider…a passing place he guessed, so he parked his truck and made the last bit of the journey on foot.   
Nick’s truck was parked in a similar place further up the track. It was dark, and locked. Gil looked around as much as he could and all he could make out was dense forest. No paths into it that he could see. He looked on both sides of the track and about thirty yards along he found a path, of sorts, into the forest.  
The night was still and it was getting much darker; the moon had moved further away in its orbit. He stood for a few minutes and wondered what to do. There was very little sound. He’d come this far and he wasn’t going to give up but he would have to use his flashlight.  
He began his journey slowly. It was a path but not one that was generally frequented by humans, more likely animals. But it was fairly easily passable and he made good progress for about fifteen minutes. And then he stopped still at the most amazing sight… One moment he’d been on a narrow path in dense forest and now it had opened up in front of him into a small clearing.   
The moon made the area look almost romantic, a little oasis in the forest, a stream running through the middle seemingly out of nowhere and going into nowhere and long grass and some bushes and rocks and completely surrounded by dense forest as much as Gil could see…except for his path. He looked around; it was still, he could hear nothing but the steady gurgling of the water.  
It was quite bright after being in amongst the trees and something on the ground caught his eye by a large rock and he walked a little unsteadily towards it, his eyes straining to see exactly what it was.  
When he suddenly realised what he was looking at he took a sharp intake of breath and stepped back, slipped and fell. He heard the crack and felt the pain. He left wrist was broken, he was in no doubt about that, and for a few minutes he sat on the damp ground trying to get his breathing and pain under control.  
He sat upright and held his left arm with his right hand and stared at the objects that had caused his shock. It was a pair of sturdy shoes, with socks tucked into them and a neat pile of folded clothing. Nick’s shoes and clothing.  
He looked around again and he could not see or hear anything out of the ordinary but his mind was reeling. What had he expected when he followed Nick? What had he suspected when Nick had been disturbed by the howling coyotes? What on earth did he think he knew about anything?  
Just then he heard a slight rustling behind him and he turned on his ass…slowly…holding his breath. On the other side of the stream about ten feet away from him was a wolf. He was very nearly face to face with a wolf. He had no gun. Why on earth did he come out here without a gun? Where was Nick?  
He stayed still and the wolf walked along the bank of the stream until he was directly across from Gil. Gil was frightened witless and yet utterly fascinated at the same time. This magnificent animal was shining all shades of brown in the moonlight; its coat was sleek and healthy and Gil guessed it was a male specimen in its prime.  
Then, in a sudden movement that made Gil jump despite trying to remain as still as possible, the wolf leapt over the stream and stood in front of Gil. Gil couldn’t help his breathing becoming ragged and he was undoubtedly as frightened as he’d ever been in his life. But something very strange happened.  
The wolf dropped onto its haunches like a domestic dog might and made a whining sound, again like a dog and then it crawled, almost on its belly, up to Gil and stretched its head to Gil's left wrist and then as Gil sat there…his mouth gaping open, it licked his injured wrist.  
Gil lifted his wrist up and moved it towards the animal and spoke, though God only knows why he did, he said. “It’s broken.”  
The wolf looked directly at him with the most beautiful clear brown eyes Gil had ever seen and he knew. He didn’t know how and he didn’t know why and he certainly couldn’t apply anything in his scientific background to the knowledge but he was absolutely certain. And apart from anything else it was completely and utterly ludicrous. But…  
…this was Nick Stokes.  
His knowledge was confirmed almost immediately. The wolf stood and went back to the clothes that lay in a pile. With its teeth it pulled and separated a long sleeved tee shirt from the pile and then pulled it over to Gil.  
“To make a sling?” Gil guessed. Using the sleeves of the tee he fashioned a bit of a sling to support his left arm and wrist. When he called out in pain as he did this, the wolf made a sympathetic whine.  
When he was finished he pushed himself up to a somewhat unsteady standing position and spoke again.  
“I’m going now…I will never speak of this. I promise.”  
The wolf made a little yelping sound but then whirled around and pricked its ears up and even as Gil looked, the hairs on its back stood up. Danger.  
It turned around and scrambled on the ground around the clothes pulling them from their neat pile. Then it pawed at the ground and growled. Gil looked down and Nick’s gun was there beneath the clothing. The wolf pawed it again towards Gil.  
“You want me to take it?” A yelp confirmed to Gil that that was exactly the idea. He stooped down and picked up the gun.  
Just then there was a lot of rustling behind him but he couldn’t see anything. The wolf nudged Gil’s legs pushing him towards the path. Gil made unsteady progress on the uneven ground and he was less agile and stable with an arm out of commission; it was also much darker as the moon got higher and smaller. As he reached the path the rustling was very loud and the wolf crouched down and flattened its ears.  
Suddenly a huge bear emerged from the forest on the other side of the stream and Gil wasted no time staring…he turned and fled on the path trying to stay upright and trying not to pass out from the pain in his wrist…and from fright. Even as he ran he wasn’t sure that he shouldn’t have just stayed still…he had the gun… Nick’s gun…  
He stumbled and banged his way along and it was almost a shock to come out onto the track. He turned back towards Nick’s truck and soon came to it…his truck was further away. He stopped and leaned on the truck to see what he could hear. Nothing. Except his ragged breath and his heart pounding in his chest and the pain in his wrist shrieking to the same beat. He still held the gun in the cramped fingers of his right hand.   
A moment or two later the wolf leapt out of the thick undergrowth just ahead of Gil and howled into the night. It came up to Gil and nudged him towards his own truck.  
“The gun, you need the gun.” But the wolf kept nudging him to go to his own truck so he staggered to his truck with the wolf walking behind and then in front of him and then stopping and listening. It seemed to Gil that the immediate threat was over but that the wolf was taking no chances.  
He was never so grateful to reach his own truck and safety. He opened the door but stood there looking at the wolf. The wolf suddenly got up on his hind legs and put its front paws on Gil’s shoulders, effectively pinning Gil to his truck. It licked Gil’s face…rivulets of sweat were running down it…until it was clean. When it’d finished it fell back away from the truck, Gil smiled at the wolf and then pulled himself into the driving seat. He left the door open and the wolf came right up to the door and stood staring at him with those familiar liquid chocolate eyes…   
He smiled. “Okay. I’m going. See you around.” He chuckled to himself; he was talking to a wolf… The wolf then ran a few yards away and turned to watch Gil. He slammed his door shut and started his truck.  
The very last sight Gil had of the wolf was in his taillights and moonlight standing proud and dignified and magnificent on the track.  
Gil made his way back to Desert Palm’s ER and told them he’d slipped while out bug hunting. He had a straightforward break and it was put in a cast and he was told to take Tylenol for the pain. It wasn’t until he was back in the truck that he saw Nick’s gun in the side pocket of the driver’s door. His immediate thought was to drive straight back into the mountains but then thought he was more of a liability than Nick was…as a wolf.  
That was it. He couldn’t deny it. However much he thought about it. He’d heard stories that were all myths of course; but were they? He only knew what he’d seen and there was no way that he could believe a wild animal could have done…would have done, or even known what to have done…but that wolf did.  
It was Nick Stokes.  
At work people were concerned about Gil’s broken wrist but no one, for one moment, questioned the fact that he broke it bug hunting. He was the butt of a few jokes and he took them all well enough. Life went on quite normally until the night Nick was due back at work…and didn’t turn up.  
No reply on his cell or land line. His house was deserted. He was missing. As soon as he could that night, Gil had gone back to the track and found the truck and the path but there had been some heavy rainfall and the path was very nearly invisible but he managed to get to the clearing, armed with his gun this time, but there was nothing. The clothes, shoes, socks, they were all gone. Certainly they were nowhere in the clearing.  
Gil didn’t say a word about what he knew because he’d promised Nick…he’d promised a wolf that he wouldn’t…  
LVPD located his truck in exactly the same position that Gil found it. More heavy rainfall had obliterated Gil’s second visit to the site. They sent cadets out to do a search but nothing was found despite days of extensive searching. Nick’s cell was in his truck, switched off with no revealing messages or calls. They thought that maybe he’d gone hiking and got lost. But when his house was searched all his expensive and extensive gear was stored neatly in his spare room. The days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months and there was nothing.  
Gil went back, as did other shift members, quite regularly, to look around see if they could find something, anything; they always drew a blank.  
His family came and went. But there was nothing. No clue. No idea. His gun was missing and after two months the only explanation they could draw was that Nick had committed suicide.  
The shift, led by Gil Grissom refused to believe it…but as much as there was no evidence to confirm it…there was no evidence to refute it.  
Fourteen weeks after Nick’s disappearance Gil left the lab and never returned. He lived on his small pension and his savings. He only ever went out on regular trips to the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest. He would hike and camp and he never once saw or even heard a wolf…or a bear, although he always took a rifle with him.   
It was generally accepted that he’d suffered some kind of breakdown with the loss of one of his staff and he became a recluse. Catherine visited for a while and Greg…but after a year or so, only Greg visited regularly, once a month. They would talk about cases and about Nick but Gil never spoke to Greg about what he knew about Nick’s disappearance. Not once…because he’d promised…   
Epilogue   
Greg had gone to visit Gil on one of his normal monthly visits and he was expected, but there was no reply. Gil’s battered old truck was on the driveway but there was no sign of Gil. When he went around to the back yard Greg could see Gil in his living room on his couch…and he wasn’t moving to Greg’s repeated banging on his door and window.  
Greg broke into the house and Gil was sitting at one end of the couch but what was absolutely amazing was that there was a huge dog lying on the couch with its head on Gil's thigh with Gil’s hand resting on the dog’s shoulder. But as Greg looked at the animal more closely he realised that it was a wolf and not a dog…an old brown wolf with silver in its fur and a white muzzle.   
Both Gil and the wolf had been dead for some days.  
Gil had left everything to Greg. He was going through all of Gil's papers when he found the notebook and remembered back to Nick’s disappearance well over eleven years ago.   
As he came to the end of Gil’s notes he got up from his seat and drove back to the lab and went straight to the morgue. He’d insisted that they hold the wolf’s carcass as well as Gil's body because he knew there was some significance; at the time he had no idea what it was but now…  
The morgue was quiet and Greg went straight to the carcass…the body of the wolf…and took a tissue sample. He went to his office and ran the sample through the DNA sequencer and while he was waiting he checked the gun.   
The gun was LVPD property; issued to Nicholas Stokes: CSI.  
The tissue sample from the wolf contained a six percent match to the DNA of Nicholas Stokes: CSI.   
An absolutely impossible match. But it was absolutely right; Greg knew…  
Greg destroyed the gun in the incinerator and deleted all the records from the computer.   
The remains of Gil Grissom and the wolf were cremated together on the instructions of Greg Sanders. On the twelfth anniversary of that fateful night when Gil had followed Nick, Greg took their ashes back to the clearing in the forest…he knew it well…and released them back to the earth together. Forever.  
He sat down crossed legged with the notebook and lit a little fire and as he read the notebook for the last time he ripped each page out and burned it…a log of that first night and of every visit Gil had made afterwards and of all the reading and investigations Gil had done…but he’d found nothing to substantiate what he knew was the truth. The last page held the last entries and Greg guessed they were made on the night Gil had died of heart failure and the wolf from old age…  
‘I think my ears are playing tricks on me because I could swear I heard the plaintive cry of a wolf in my own back yard!  
The last words were scrawled almost illegibly.  
‘Dear God, it’s him, it’s Nick, he’s come back for me…at last.’  
The End


End file.
